


Sweet Nothings

by Louffox



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier (RPF), Youtube (RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Sunshine Project, terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark did it effortlessly. Jack... well, Jack did his best.</p><p>For week 2 of the Sunshine Project! Topic: Terms of Endearment</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

> These two jerks are the reason I'm wallowing in the bottom of a dumpster. I swear to goodness they're gonna be the death of me.

Jack knew better than to even try. He had never been very good at this, and he'd learned it was better to just stick to what he was good at.

Unfortunately, Mark was very good at it. He did it in the morning, the moment both their eyes were open, sometimes even before. He did it late at night when they went to bed. He did it at the table, and shamelessly did it in public, probably because he liked how it made Jack blush. He had a talent for it, and he knew it.

He was so good at just slipping it in casually, Jack learned to just roll with it.

Damn Mark and his smooth voice and crafty pet names.

"Good morning," Mark greeted, coming around the counter to kiss Jack's cheek. "I'm making a scramble, darling, you want?"

"Mmmm," Jack sighed happily.

"Was that a yes?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He followed Mark behind the counter, kissing the back of Mark's neck with every step, to get to the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug and put a splash of cream in it.

"What do you want in yours?"

"What've we got?"

"Mushrooms, olives, pepperoni, ham, uh... Tomatoes, and a bunch of cheese."

"Mushrooms, olives, and  pepperoni. And cheddar cheese, if we've got that," he requested happily.

"Coming right up, toots," Mark said, dumping the listed things in a pan. Both of them had lived true bachelor lives for years, and both had the stereotypical lack of culinary skills, but breakfast food was simple. Mark had decent stove top talent, while Jack could bake like... Well, like a boss, so they filled each other's gaps.

They did their own thing for most of the morning, doing their own recording, but then edited together, and decided to go out to get sushi for lunch. Per tradition, when they got sushi, they ordered for each other.

Mark maintained eye contact with Jack, wearing a coy grin as he ordered. "I'd like a spicy girl roll and a lady in red roll, please and thank you."

Jack did much the same, not looking away from Mark, cocking his brow. "I'd like the iron man roll and ring of fire roll."

They turned their menus in and Jack grinned first, and kicked Mark under the table.

"Spicy girl? Really?"

"Honestly, sweetie, I don't even know what's in it, I just saw the name and I knew it'd be perfect for you."

"You sure? You're the spicy guru."

"Yeah, but you're the one who _likes_ the spicy guru."

Jack snorted, but let it go, instead choosing to rudely slurp his tea with a raised brow.

They went back home and recorded and worked more, until evening, when they went to the gym. They did their own thing for half an hour, doing whatever weights they wanted, and then went for a 2-mile run. This had become their schedule, and it kept both of them happy and healthy.

“I love it when you’re a hot mess like this, duck,” Mark said coyly, kissing his brow and then chuckling, licking his lips. “You taste like salt.”

“Gross,” Jack laughed, throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him in to return the favor, pressing wet kisses all over his forehead.

“Ew! Stop, stop!” Mark laughed, pushing at his chest.

They showered, and were debating what to do for supper when Daniel and Ryan texted Mark, asking if they wanted to go to a nearby bar. Mark agreed, and they decided to split some nachos when they got there.

“Hey, petal, I’m grabbing a coat, want me to grab yours? It’s supposed to get pretty cold quick,” Mark called from the closet.

Jack wandered out of the bathroom, still rolling on deodorant, to confront him. “How the fuck do you do that?”

Mark blinked. “I’ve got a weather widget right on my phone’s homescreen-,”

“No, not that,” Jack said, waving a hand. “The- the pet names. ‘Petal’, ‘darling’, ‘lovely’, you make it all sound so sweet and adorable. How do you do that?”

“I dunno. It’s my caramel-smooth voice,” Mark shrugged, grinning.

“Hm,” Jack sniffed, capping his deodorant and bringing it back to the bathroom. “I just sound awkward when I try. I can’t do it all casual-like, the way you do.”

“Well, try it! You’ve gotta be spontaneous about it, you think about it too much. I don’t even notice I’m doing it half the time.” He stuck his head around the corner, looking worried. “Are you okay with it? I mean, if it’s weird, if you want me to stop, I don’t-,”

“No, I love it,” Jack laughed, coming over and giving him a chaste kiss. “I’m just mad jealous because you’re good at that and I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’re fine,” Mark laughed. Jack decided to take his coat as well, and they walked to the bar.

They found a booth in the corner and settled in with the Cyndago boys, sharing two giant plates of nachos and drinking cold cider.

“I just don’t get how you do it. I played for like three hours and got nowhere. All of us failed miserably at it, except you- and you made this amazing giant series out of it too,” Ryan said, shaking his head.

“It took practice. And the community really came together and gave me advice. It took me a hell of a long time to get good, but once you get the hang of it, it’s easy,” Jack shrugged.

“The designers thought you were so good they sent you an Escapists hoodie,” Ryan pointed out. “Quit being modest.”

“I’m being honest, any of you could be good at it, it just has to click,” he said with another bashful shrug. He turned to Mark. “Lemme out for a sec, I’ve gotta piss.”

“Such a gentleman,” Mark laughed, but stepped out to let Jack scoot out of the booth, and then sat back down. Jack hovered there for a moment, seeming indecisive, and then finally spoke up.

“Thanks, _owl_.”

The cider expelled from Mark’s mouth was at such a velocity and range that Daniel’s glasses were flecked with it, and there were no apologies from the YouTuber-gone-sprinkler, just howls of laughter.

“Did you just call me ‘owl’?”

“No,” Jack said on reflex. “Yeah. Jesus, see what I mean,” he said, starting to laugh, covering his face.

“Owl. _Owl_. That’s not even remotely romantic,” Mark roared.

“It’s not, it’s really not,” Ryan gasped around hysterical giggles. “That was awful.”

“This is all _your_ fault,” Jack cried, pointing an accusing finger at Mark. “You told me to try it.”

“Yeah, but- owl?? You couldn’t go with something normal?”

“You two- shut the fuck up,” Jack said, pointing at Ryan and Daniel, in stitches. He pointed back at Mark. “And you- up yours. I’m going to piss and we’re all going to pretend that never happened.”

“I’m _never_ going to forget that. Owl,” Mark said, still cracking up. When Jack came back, Mark and Daniel and Ryan innocently pretended it didn’t happen, but when the duo was walking home that night, (warm in their coats,) Mark couldn’t help but ask.

“Why owl?” The question burst out of him.

“Fuckoff.”

“No, honestly. I’m actually curious. What made you say owl?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Jack snorted. Then he looked thoughtful. “Maybe it’s… hm. Well… the way you walk.”

“ _The way I walk_ ’?”

“Yeah, you have this sturdy, kinda proud walk, with your chest out and you look with your neck a lot, you don’t look with your eyes, you turn your whole head. And you’ve got big eyes-,”

“Do not,”

“-for a guy who’s half-Korean, I mean. And you’re smart, yeah, but there’s something really wise about your face, like you could say whatever bullshit you dreamed up, but you’ve got this kind of upturned-kind of face, you look like you know your shit.”

“You’re making no sense at all.”

“I swear, you’re a little owl-y!”

“Yeah, okay. If you want, I can be your owl,” Mark said sweetly. They looked at each other, and frowned.

“Nope, not even you can make that sound like a cute pet name,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no…”

“Never saying that again.”

“Agreed. We’ll work on it,” Mark promised. Jack shook his head again.

“Nah, I’ll just… not. You can hand out the terms of endearment; I’ll just bask in your sweet nothings,” Jack said with a grin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is literally nothing romantic about 'owl'. I did my best to come up with a) some really unromantic pet name that just can't work, no matter how smoothly it's presented, and b) some critter that Mark kind of resembles. I know it's a stretch, but that's rather the point- Jack did a bad job. Good thing we (and Mark) love him regardless.


End file.
